


L'esprit de l'escalier

by HarperRose (Harper_Rose)



Series: Mutually Assured Destruction [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: First Time, Keller loves Neal, M/M, Neal's a romantic, Paris (City), Pre-Series, SO GAY, he just doesn't realize it yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harper_Rose/pseuds/HarperRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>pre-series</p>
<p>Keller catches feelings while in Paris... he's not so sure what to think about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	L'esprit de l'escalier

**Author's Note:**

> takes place quite a few years before the show, the two of them are both pretty young so keep that in mind if they seem a little OOC.

If Matthew Keller were a smarter man he wouldn’t be in this situation. If Matthew Keller were a smarter man he wouldn’t end up in a lot of situations. He looked at Neal, finding the _slightly_ younger man -- Matthew made a point of addressing the _slightly_ when Neal so kindly pointed out the age gap -- was fast asleep beside him. He needed a haircut, Matthew mused, it was overgrown and fell in his face as he slept. He gently reached out and brushed the curls out of his eyes.

Neal burrowed his face into Matthew’s shoulder, his legs uncurling. He let out a soft, content huff as he resettled.

Matthew frowned at the ceiling, caught between going back to sleep and running out the door. Again he thought, if he were a smarter man he wouldn’t be in this situation. This was not a good idea, Neal Caffrey was not a good idea. Sure, Caffrey was good for business, the kid could get the job done better than any other. Getting in bed with Caffrey… well, it stroked the ego that was for sure.

Matthew and Neal had come back to the hotel -- Paris, Neal’s choice -- pissed off and ready to go for eachother’s throats. Next thing he knew he had a lap full of Neal Caffrey. Not that he was complaining, the kid was exceptional with his hands and his mouth. But, now? Well, now came the existential crisis.

The list of reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this was quite lengthy. They needed to keep it professional, this would compromise the heist, it could ruin either of their reputations… On the other hand, it was  _amazing._ Neal was amazing. Christ, there was no way in hell he hadn’t done this before, the kid has _skill-_

Matthew closed his eyes.

It was too late to be thinking about this- or was it too early? Matthew had lost track of time somewhere between the angry shouts and accusations and the soft, beautifully desperate moans. The night had gotten away from him fast. Neal had that effect on people, it wasn’t like Matthew didn’t know who he was getting involved with.

It was just… it was Neal.

The kid was soft when it came down to it. Sensitive. Matthew wasn’t one for relationships and Neal was a romantic. He would want what Matthew could not give him. What he did not think he was capable of giving. Sure, he liked Neal and there was no way he’d say no to another night like tonight but…

He groaned. _“Shit.”_

He was overthinking it, he knew that. Still, he enjoyed his and Neal’s partnership and it wasn’t that he was opposed to this, it was just the certain dread he felt over how this could all end.

“Matt.”

Matthew frowned, looking down at Neal through the dark of the room. Out of the window the Eiffel Tower shone above the city, it’s glow brilliant in the night. They spared no expenses, if Caffrey wanted a view they were getting the best money could buy.

“Go back to sleep,” Neal mumbled.

“No sleep to go back to.”

A deep frown creased Neal’s brow. “You’ve been awake this whole time? It’s three a.m,” he said, sparing the alarm clock a look. He rolled over partially on top of the other man, running his fingers over his brow before leaning up and gently kissing him on the mouth.

Matthew eagerly reciprocated, gripping Neal by the base of his neck to deepen the kiss. He made a small sound of protest when Neal pulled away.

“Go to sleep.”

Matthew hummed and said drowsily, “not tired.”

Neal chuckled. “That’s a lie. With the activities we were up to there’s no way in hell-” he broke off with a yawn. He rolled over until he was on his stomach, folding his arms under his pillow. “Go to sleep Matt.”

Matthew ran his fingers through Neal’s hair. Maybe he would let him cut it tomorrow, he wondered.

“Go to sleep”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled over too, on his side so he could look at Neal. He was tired, he could feel it beckoning him. In the weight of his eyelids, the warm glow of the city lights, the lull of the Charles Trenet record playing softly in the living room. But he couldn’t sleep, he _couldn’t._ Couldn’t slee-

 

***

It felt too early when he woke. It was daylight, the sun streaming in through the window because Neal refused to ever close the drapes. Matthew didn’t want to be awake, he was still tired. Exhausted. It was too early and yet Neal was singing along to Françoise Hardy from the kitchen as he presumably made breakfast.

He sat up with a groan, the duvet falling around his bare chest. He could see now that it was raining. Eiffel Tower standing tall in the distance. It wasn’t gloomy per say, just scattered clouds, but it would most likely be later in the day.

Matthew leant over the mattress in search for his pants. That’s right, they were in the kitchen. _Damn._ He scrambled around the room for the pajama pants he knew he had somewhere. He dug through his bag, finally finding his sweatpants and tugging them on. Shirt, shirt, he needed a shirt. T-shirt would have to do, although he thought it might be Neal’s. Some of their things had gotten mixed up when they left the last hotel in a rush thanks to that FBI agent. Matthew would still be pissed about leaving Portugal so soon if Paris weren’t so beautiful.

He followed the sound of Neal’s voice, his soft tones carrying the notes perfectly. Matthew was tying the laces of his sweatpants when he came into the open layout kitchen-living room space. He smiled, seeing Neal in his checked pajama pants and sweatshirt, hovering around the stove top, and without once missing a beat in the rhythm of the music he set a fresh cup of coffee down in front of Matthew. Shuffling back to the stove, spatula in hand. “It’s Italian roast.”

Matthew blinked in surprise, taking the mug without complaint. Italian roast was his favorite, he was just trying to figure out how Neal knew that. “Thanks.” He took a sip, it tasted devine. He could kiss Caffrey.

“I made eggs benedict,” Neal informed him.

“Sounds good.” Keller cleared his throat. “Do- Uhm,” he pursed his lips. “Any plans for the day?”

Neal cocked his head. “Nothing in stone. Forecast says it’s s’possed to rain all day. I thought maybe if it clears up by tomorrow we could go to the Musée d'Orsay.”

Matthew nodded along as he spoke. “Yeah, yeah, alright. Doesn't hurt to scope the place.”

Neal smirked to himself. "I thought we could get a feel for their security systems."

Keller nodded. “We got wine?”

“There’s a bottle in the fridge.” Neal smiled and dished each of their plates. Keller could feel the weight of his faze on him. “You look tired,” Neal said. He took both of their plates over to the kitchenette table, setting them across from one another and taking his seat.

Keller followed him over, coffee in hand. “Didn’t sleep much, not that that should come as any surprise.” He smirked to himself.

Neal flushed. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

Matthew grinned. “Don’t see why I would at the rate you were going.” He suddenly wasn’t hungry at all, but far more interested in climbing over the table and picking Neal apart piece by piece. “Are we going to pretend we’re actually interested in breakfast, or can we jump straight ahead to the good stuff?”

Neal looked at him over the table, a heat in his eyes that Matthew had only ever seen there last night.

He swallowed. “Fuck. C’mere Caffrey,” he practically growled, marching around the table and all but pulling Neal from his seat, slamming him down on the kitchen table with enough force to rattle their dishes.

Their lips met in a violent clash, more a battle of teeth than any kiss. They nipped and bit and growled. The aggression left over from last night spurring their actions.

“Shouldn’t-” he swallowed. “Shouldn’t we take this to the bedroom?”

“We’ll take it to the bedroom after I’ve had you on this table.”

Neal threw his head back, giving Matthew a view. _“Matthew,”_ he moaned languidly.

Neither of them lasted long. Clothes came off like lightning and soon enough Matthew was seeing stars and Neal was singing loud sweet nothings into the air. _God,_ Matthew loved Paris.

 

***

 

A few hours later the two of them were walking down the streets of Paris, Neal content to stroll, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his umbrella. Matthew, however, was feeling a little preoccupied. And he blamed Neal Caffrey entirely, although he knew the blame mostly lay with himself. Like he had said, if Matthew Keller were a smarter man he wouldn’t be in this situation.

They had spent most of the day in bed, extracting themselves once to finish their untouched breakfasts. Neal had suggested going out for dinner to stretch their legs. They had just eaten at Café Kléber and now Neal was leading them god only knew where. “C’mon,” Neal suddenly said, surprising Matthew by taking his hand to lead them. His pace picking up with his excitement.

Matthew nearly stumbled as Neal led him up a set of stone steps. They were on the flat of Palais de Chaillot. Dozens of people were milling about, tourists taking pictures of the sights, couples kissing and holding hands. The sight made Matthew’s stomach flop.

“This is the best view of the Eiffel Tower,” Neal proclaimed.

“We have a view from our room,” Matthew said plainly.

“Yes, and this is a better view.”

Matthew didn’t say anything to that. Just sucked on his teeth and watched Neal. The lights of the city were bright and illuminated Neal in a flattering glow. He seemed comfortable here, in this city.

Neal suddenly began leading them to the bronze statues that lined the clearing, leading them through groups of people. He released Matthew in order to pull himself up on the raised platform the statues stood proudly upon. He offered Keller his hand, “come on,” he urged with that ridiculous cocky smirk of his.

Matthew rolled his eyes but allowed Neal to pull him up, holding back his comment of being fully capable of doing it on his own. “You know, I don’t think we’re actually supposed to be up here,” he said.

“No one will care,” he said dismissively. Taking a seat and letting his legs dangling over the edge.

Sitting next to him, Matthew really looked around. They sat looking out upon Trocadéro Gardens. The fountains were on. Pont d'Iéna bridge was lit, as was the street. And above it all was the Eiffel, grand and twinkling in the night sky. It was breathtaking. He was beginning to understand why Neal loved this city so damn much.

Neal looked at him, still smiling. “Have you been to Paris before?” he asked.

“Just once,” Matthew said. “Pulled off a heist at the central bank. Got away with quite the profit.”

“How long ago was that?”

He cocked his head in thought. “Almost six years.”

Neal looked at Matthew with something like disbelief. “How old were you?” He asked as he pulled his legs up to cross them beneath him.

Matthew shrugged, “twenty-two? It was a long time ago, I was just a kid.” He watched Neal roll his eyes and smirked. “You act like you didn’t start appallingly young.”

“Oh I started young, and I was doing a lot more than casing banks by twenty-two.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you expected more than bank heists?” He scoffed, “you’re impossible to please, Caffrey.” He leant forward to kiss Neal on the mouth. Neal didn’t object, but leaned in to return the kiss.

When he pulled away the apples of Neal cheeks flushed a soft pink. Christ, Neal had this effect over him, and it was a little disconcerting. They were just fooling around, but Matthew was definitely feeling… something. It was a warm and light feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t decide if he liked it or not. It made him feel comfortable, something he wasn’t exactly used too. A man in his line of work couldn’t afford to let his guard down.

If Matthew Keller were a smarter man he would put a stop to this.

 


End file.
